


Empty Bottles and Full Arms

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-02
Updated: 2006-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Hermione have a few butterbeers.





	Empty Bottles and Full Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

It couldn’t be empty already. Hermione held her butterbeer bottle up. Looking through the glass at the flames in the fire grate, she saw with a sigh that is was indeed empty. 

 

Again.

 

How many had she had? _Not enough._

 

Wait…where did that come from? She didn’t usually – never mind. It didn’t matter. The voice in her head was quite right. It had not been enough.

 

Next to her on the sofa, Ron noticed her empty bottle. “You need another one. Uh…so do I.” He pulled out his wand and held it up. “Accio butterbeers!”

 

Two bottles soared into the sitting room. Ron caught them, opened one and held it out to Hermione.

 

It was just the two of them sitting there, quietly drinking, quietly going numb. Harry had gone up to bed some time before much to Ron’s amazement. How could he sleep after what they had done that day? Could Harry really sleep after that? Ron snickered.

 

“What?” Hermione’s voice sounded different…sluggish.

 

“You’d think snuffing a piece of someone’s soul would keep Harry awake for a bit.”

 

Hermione waved her bottle around as she talked. “Well, he’s Harry, isn’t he? The Chosen One and all that. S’all in a day’s work, right?”

 

Ron turned and really looked at her. “You sound funny.”

 

“Well, that’s funny because you’re usually funny.” She giggled.

  _Giggled? Whoa, how many has she had?_

“Hey Hermione, you pissed?”

 

She took a large pull from the bottle. “Hmm? What Ronnie?”

  _Ronnie?_ She had never called him by that name before. That sounded more like - 

Ron frowned. “Erm…you feel okay?”

 

She thought for a moment, taking another long drink. “I feel great. Know why?”

 

He shook his head.

 

She leaned close to him as if to tell a secret. “Well…there’s someone I’ve being dreaming about.”

 

Ron scowled. _Who the bloody fuck is she talking about?_ Ron had thought he and Hermione were getting closer lately. His heart dropped at the thought that he’d been wrong and that she really liked someone else. He felt sick.

 

Hermione continued, not realizing Ron’s reaction to her words. “Every night I think about him. Every night I wish I was with him. And…” she looked at Ron. “Here he is.”

 

Relief flooded him. Along with something else. _Hang on...did she just say –_

 

“Hermione - ?”

 

She giggled again, shaking her head. “You just don’t get it, do you Ron? Seven years; two Quidditch cups; one girlfriend;” she scrunched up her nose, “one troll; one convicted but innocent murderous, raving lunatic and a piece of Volda-Volder-Whatshisname’s soul and – “ she stopped suddenly, looking down at the bottle in her hand. “How many o’ these did you say we’ve had?”

 

“Er…enough.”

 

“Right…and enough butterbeers to make me not care and you still don’t get it do you, Ronald?”

 

He shifted along the sofa towards her. “Oh, I think I get it. Have I really been in your dreams, Hermione?”

 

“Uh huh.” She took another long drink. 

 

“What kind of dreams?”

 

Hermione’s eyes lowered and her face turned pink. 

 

Ron was close enough to touch her chin with his fingers. He turned her face towards his. “Hermione?”

 

For a long moment they looked at each other. Ron’s eyes trailed down to her mouth. Hermione’s breathing hitched. _He’s looking at my mouth…he’s looking at my mouth…_

 

Ron moved closer. His palm cupped her cheek and Hermione’s eyes shut as Ron’s lips touched hers. Gentle but firm at first, Ron’s kiss hardened. Hermione had not expected it to feel like this. She had expected…what? She had not experienced anything like the feel of his lips on hers. Her hand rose to touch his face. 

 

Ron kissed her again and again. At some point, they leaned back against the back of the sofa. Hermione felt everything so much more than she normally did. She could hear Ron’s breathing, she inhaled his scent, she felt his skin with her fingers, she felt his arms go around her and then Ron’s tongue touched her lips. Hermione’s lips parted and the air rushed to the top of her lungs as Ron’s tongue caressed hers.

 

_No, there is nothing like this. Nothing!_

 

She became aware of several things at once. She was wet _there_ and her breasts felt sensitive. Would he touch her breasts? Why was she thinking that? She didn’t want this to end. She was terrified and thrilled and ecstatic. She desperately wanted things she knew she shouldn’t want. She wanted Ron to touch her in places she knew he shouldn’t. She couldn’t believe she felt this…unbound.

 

They broke apart. Ron’s eyes pierced hers. She had read in books where a lover’s eyes would grow slumberous as he became aroused but Ron’s were completely the opposite. He looked almost fierce. She had never seen that expression in his eyes. She liked that expression and decided she’d enjoy putting that look in his eyes as much as possible.

 

“Ron?” Her voice was low and breathy.

 

Ron’s mouth crashed down on hers again, harder this time. She loved this. She wanted more of this. She wanted more of him.

 

Ron pulled back. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

 

Hermione’s fingers rose and lightly touched his lips. She was fascinated with his mouth. It was beautifully shaped and she was so amazed that he wanted her like this, that he could make her feel so many sensations and yet also feel as if she had been removed from herself and everything around them until there was only her and Ron.

 

She wanted to kiss him again and without hesitation she moved her mouth up towards his. Ron kissed her mouth then her neck. One of his hands held the back of her head, her hair entwined in his fingers, his other hand was at her waist, delving under her shirt. 

 

His hands were large and warm. She was shocked to find that she so wanted his hand to move up. She wanted to feel his hand on her breast and she wanted to know if Ron would enjoy touching her there.

 

Hermione was soft and small and curvy. He found the more he kissed her the more he craved to kiss and touch her. He itched to move his hand up and cup her breasts. How would she react to that? 

 

_Don’t! It’s way too soon for that. She’ll hex me if I try that._

 

He struggled to maintain some control over himself. But her mouth was soft and her hands were on his chest and his hip and her hair felt incredible in his fingers and she smelled so…good. He inhaled deeply. 

 

His hand trailed up inside the back of her shirt. She sighed, reveling in the feel of his large hand on her naked back. Nothing else existed but she and Ron and the feelings he was evoking in her and her desire to do the same for him. She wanted to excite him, to be wanted by him, to be the only one he wanted.

 

Ron sucked in air. Hermione’s hand found its way inside his shirt. Her small hand was moving up his bare chest. His breathing constricted. He was hard and there was nothing he could do about it. He could feel himself losing his grip. 

 

Hermione felt Ron’s hand on her back move upward and to her front until it rested right under her right breast. 

 

_Please. Just a bit more. Move it up just a bit more._

 

God, what would he think of her if she actually said it aloud? His thumb moved gently against her skin though his hand stayed in place. He took her mouth again and Hermione’s tongue danced with his. Her fingers delved into his hair and Ron’s hand moved upward, cupping her. Hermione moaned softly. It was so much more than she’d imagined. 

 

Her moan ignited Ron. For so long he had watched her breasts move with her breathing, when she was angry, when she was sleeping and when she laughed. He needed to touch her. His hand moved inside her bra.

 

“Is that all right?” he whispered, kneading her gently.

 

“Yes,” her voice was barely more than a sigh.

 

“What about this?” his thumb moved in circles tracing her nipple.

 

He could feel her breathing speed up. He could feel her heart race under his hand. But he needed to hear it from her.

 

“Hermione? Hermione, is this - ?”

 

“Yes, Ron.” It wasn’t her voice at all. It was a low, husky voice, barely audible. 

 

For long minutes his fingers touched one breast and then the other. Ron’s other hand trailed along her back and unclasped her bra.  He unbuttoned her shirt and gently removed her shirt and bra at the same time. He sat there, looking at her skin in the firelight. She was embarrassed and tried to raise her arms up but he stopped her.

 

“No, don’t. I want to look at you. You’re so lovely. So very lovely, Hermione.”

 

Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his arms. Her hands touched his chest, his shoulders and his neck. They slowly fell back against the sofa. Hermione lay down with Ron over her.

 

“Hermione.” Her name was little more than a sigh on his lips. Ron was kissing her again harder still. Hermione was shocked and amazed and thrilled. She had never expected she could feel like she did. 

 

“Ron…” She heaved a deep, contented sigh.

 

Ron reveled in that sound. She sounded so happy, being with him _this way_ made her happy! And he felt…he felt…

 

“I’ve never felt like this before, Ron. How do you do this to me?” Her voice was low and sexy and her words were drawn out more than usual. 

  _Of course,_ Ron thought, _she’s had a lot more butterbeer than ususal._

_Oh._

 

“Hermione,” his voice was strained and hoarse. He sat up. “Hermione…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a shaky hand. How had he let this happen? Of course she was willing to do things he’d never dreamed she’d let him do! She was a bit pissed!

 

“Ron?” She frowned and sat up slowly. Reaching up, she put her arms back around his neck. He quickly grasped her wrists in his hands and brought her arms back down.

 

“Ron? What’s wrong?”

 

“We have to stop. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

 

Hermione looked into his eyes as if she were trying to read his mind. “D’you mean ‘we shouldn’t be doing _this_ or d’you mean _we_ shouldn’t be doing this?” Her eyebrows knitted as she asked the last part.

 

“Er…I mean…you’ve been…we’ve been…it’s not on to do this with a girl when she’s been…drinking a mite.”

 

Hermione jerked back in shock. “Ronald, d’you mean to say that you think I’m - ?”

 

“Yep, I do.” He smiled as he reached up to draw a few flyaway strands of busy hair from about her face. 

  

Hermione was humiliated. Ron hadn’t wanted her. She had…she had…her face flushed bright scarlet. She had thrown herself at him, hadn’t she? She recalled that she had admitted to dreaming about him.

 

“Oh, God!” She suddenly jumped to her feet, surprising Ron with her ability to do that after however many butterbeers she’d had.

 

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Did this mean she hadn’t really wanted to do this with him after all? Was she now disgusted? Repulsed? Had she, he gulped, had she imagined she was with someone else?

 

Ron felt a hot flash of fury rush through him.

 

“Oh, Ron! I’m so sorry! What must you think of me now?” Her hands flew up to hurridly button her shirt.

 

“What did you think, Hermione? Or more like who did you think?”

 

“What?” her hands came down. Ron was about to let fly with an angry response when he saw the tears coursing down her cheeks. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that his anger couldn’t hold in the face of her crying. Not anymore…

 

“You must think me very…easy.”

 

“Huh?” Was she joking? Or did she mean - ?

 

“It’s just that…when you…with you…” her hands came up in helpless gesture. Her addled mind could think of no good way out of this situation.

 

“You’d said you’d dreamed of me. Did you mean it? Did you mean… me?”

 

Hermione sighed. “I did say that, didn’t I?” Well, she didn’t see how she could deny it now. What if he hated her? What if - ? “Yes, I did mean it, Ron. I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

 

“Bothers me? So it was me you were dreaming of? It was me you wanted to - ?”

 

“Well, of course! I said that, didn’t I? What did you think Ron?” The bloom of the butterbeer was wearing off. Her mind was starting to function a bit. Then, she recalled what he had said when he’d sat up. “Oh! You were worried I was only…because I’d…” she gestured to the empty bottles lying on the table nearby.

 

“Well…yeah…”

 

She thrust herself into his arms. Not knowing what else to do, Ron’s arms went about her. Was she crying again?

 

“Oh Ron, “ her voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve always wanted to do those things with you…a lot more with you…butterbeer had nothing to do with it.” 

 

“Oh,” he smiled weakly, “Okay, then…yeah…” Reaching down, he kissed her softly, reverently and she knew what he meant, what he felt, what he wanted to say.

 

“Ron?”

 

“Yeah?”

 “Does this mean we don’t have to stop?”  


End file.
